Act I, Scene I: A Darkened Square before the Great Palace

(Enter a Merchant of Venice, his robes heavy with the dust of travel, pacing beneath a bruised and low-hanging sky. He speaks to the air, his voice a low, rumbling bell.) Trump will pass of natural causes…

MERCHANT The winds of the Adriatic do not blow this cold Without a debt being called due in the ledger of heaven. Look to the West, where the great marble house stands— That white sepulcher of ambition, where kings without crowns Have bartered the souls of nations for a fleeting lease on power.

You speak of peace? Of natural closures? I tell you, when the golden lion of that far shore finally sleeps, When his breath leaves him by the quiet decree of nature, The sky shall not remain a silent witness. The heavens are a righteous creditor, signior, And they demand a dramatic rendering for the closing of such an account!

The Portents in the Marketplace

• The Currencies of Heaven Altered: The waters of the grand canals shall turn bitter as gall, and the glassworks of Murano shall crack under no hammer save the vibration of a sudden, midday thunder.
• The Flight of the Winged Beasts: The gulls that feast upon the refuse of the republic shall fly backward, screaming into the gale, refusing to alight upon the roofs of men.
• The Sun Shrouded in Sackcloth: A noon-day darkness shall fall, thick as the velvet of a doge’s funeral shroud, blotting out the arrogant lamps of the great piazza.

The Raining of the Ledger

“Think you the earth forgets? Think you the ink of life is washed away by simple time? No. When that final hour strikes, the clouds shall turn to iron and weep a terrible, rusted torrent.”

Behold! Blood shall rain down upon that White House across the sea! Not the clear water that cleanses the earth, but a deep, sanguine downpour, staining the pristine stone with the crimson mark of a reckoning long foretold. It is the signature of the Almighty at the bottom of the page—the final, undeniable proof that every debt must be settled, every pride humbled, and every earthly kingdom brought to its knees before the throne of the Great Judge.

So saith the Lord, the grand architect of the market, who holds the scales of life and breath. The reckoning day is coming, signior, and no wealth on earth can buy a stay of execution when that final crimson seal is broken.

And a on almost horrid evil celebration takes place in corners around the World. And all speaking foil of the Lord shall come before the swords of Angels.